First Task: Shezarrine Dovahkiin
by The Masked Half Blood
Summary: Rewrite of First Task: Dovahkiin! Harry is entered into the TriWizard Tournament and is trapped having to compete. However, the tasks have changed with four competitors. Now, sent into various worlds that score on what is learned and what is used, and how far a Champion got in their world, Harry is off to a Modded Skyrim as the new Dovahkiin. Harry Harem. Part 1 of series
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note**_ : Hello everybody! Yes its me, the Masked Half Blood once again coming to you all from my keyboard. I know, I usually would have posted a chapter yesterday into 'First Task: Dovahkiin' but I had to work, which ended up being a big trip to the hospital for one of my coworkers, so no chapter. Now, a lot of you have realized that I'm learning this whole writing fanfiction thing and I thank you for helping me. Some of you can just be dicks, but at least you make your opinions known.

A few people asked for longer chapters, and that's what I'm going to do, just know that the longer the chapters the less time I have to put them out. Maybe one or two chapters per week rather than three or four. Its just the way its going to work out. I've read all the comments and reviews and will be using your helpful suggestions in this dramatic rewrite of the story.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I had fun writing it.

* * *

The rumbling of the crowd gathering down the hill from the ancient castle was the first thing the youngest champion of the Triwizard Tournament noticed as he stepped through the main doors and into the sunlight. The sky was filled with ominous clouds as the month of November began to die and the harsh Scottish winter approached. The Black Lake which lay between the castle and the nearby village of Hogsmeade already saw chunks of ice forming and floating across its eerily calm surface.

The Champion's emerald color eyes found the Quidditch Pitch easily. A plain stadium with five risen sets of benches for the spectators was almost unrecognizable now as the builders and craftsmen of the Ministry of Magic had transformed it into a near replica of the Colosseum in Rome. Lines of men, women and children stretched out from the entrances and ticket sellers, past carefully constructed kiosks selling Champion merchandising and toward the school gates.

The fourteen year old Harry James Potter had no desire to be involved whatsoever.

The wizards and witches hailed the black haired youth as their savior, the one who had defeated the Dark Lord, Voldemort, as an infant in swaddling clothes. Yet whenever he showed a talent or a skill they didn't accept they hated him, just like they had in second year when he revealed his ability to speak the language of snakes, parseltongue. Now they hated him for being in a tournament meant for men and women in their seventh years of magical schooling, a tournament he hadn't entered himself in.

They called him a liar and a cheat, even his best friend since first year, Ron Weasley, the redheaded toe rag, had turned on him. While the freckle faced boy might not have known Harry saw him, he had spotted the other boy wearing one of the 'Potter Stinks' badges. Those badges were just another in the line of cruel harassment that Harry had to endure while the staff of Hogwarts looked the other way.

Now he was being escorted by his Head of House, the stern dark haired witch, Minerva McGonagall, to a fate he knew nothing about. The Triwizard Tournament was broken into three secret tasks that the students would have to compete in with little or no forewarning. While cheating had been a time honored tradition in the past, the judges and task creators had managed to keep a firm lid on the first task so no competitor knew what was coming.

Now, dressed in a heavy fur cloak of crimson and gold, the colors of House Gryffindor, he felt as though he was being lead to the executioner's block. He didn't say a word as they traveled down the path toward the Colosseum sized pitch, where hundreds of roaring and happy people had paid to see the Champions ripped limb from limb. He had learned from the Dursleys and the staff in the past that what he had to say didn't matter in the slightest such as _'I don't want to compete in your stupid tournament_ '. They ignored his words and thus he had been forced to save them from their own incompetence for the first two years of his schooling and save his Godfather from bias and lies in his third.

How they thought a boy who hadn't even begun studying for his O.W.L.s could compete against adults ready to take their N.E.W.T.s, he couldn't fathom. He was rather certain that after today he would be reunited with his mother and father beyond the mortal coil and in a way he was happy. In his dazed state of preparing for his own demise he didn't even think of what the task might possibly be, it didn't matter in the end to be honest.

His eyes drifted to the architecture of the new stadium as passed beneath a wooden archway and into the shadowed corridor meant for the champions to take. The changing rooms for quidditch players passed almost unnoticed on his right side but he wondered if he could summon his Firebolt from this distance and just run away. Damn the tournament and the 'world' that thought to put him on a pedestal. Just maybe he could find a place beyond the wands and magic, beyond the borders of the United Kingdom where he could just be Harry.

It was a fool's dream though, just like his hopes of escaping his neglectful and cruel family in the non-magical world. At least that was a dream he had nearly attained with his godfather last year before Severus Snape the potion master and professor crushed his dreams again. The greasy haired man had made it his life's mission to make the teen as miserable as possible and he succeeded at every turn.

Again he stepped into the sunlight as they passed the wardstones that held the barrier to keep those who weren't authorized off the pitch. He had heard the roar and ground shaking applause for the other three champions as they arrived before him but for his entrance the crowd was split. Some cheered the savior of the their world calling out for the Boy-Who-Lived while others jeered and hissed at the boy who had seemingly let fame gone to his head and force his way into a competition he had no reason to be part of.

He didn't care for either side though. They all were ignorant sheep in his mind believing whatever they were told by those who they felt had power. They forgot about his parents, Voldemort's final victims and the real reason he had become a wrath filled wraith, and looked on him as a hero, which he wasn't in his mind. He had faced the man born as Tom Riddle twice and both times it was because the adults around him failed those in their charge. Three times he had been confronted by his parent's murderer, including as a baby, and each time he just managed to get away with his life.

Climbing the wooden steps onto the dais where the real champions stood, he couldn't help but feel tiny in comparison. Cedric Diggory, the Champion from Hufflepuff, and Victor Krum, Durmstrang's Champion, both towered over his thin and frail form looking every part the champion they were meant to be thanks to the Goblet of Fire. Fleur Delacour, the Champion of Beauxbaton's, looked like a goddess in her powder blue robes that hugged her figure and released her veela allure on the men on stage.

Barty Crouch, the man who had sentenced his godfather, Sirius Black, without trial to life in Azkaban and now had forced the fourteen year old to compete in this farce, stood on the far end of the stage, talking to Professor 'Mad-eye' Moody, named so for his spinning oversized fake eye. Ludo Bagman, the chubby head of the Ministry's games and entertainment department, stood near the champions with his eyes fixated on the busty seventeen year old veela and a string of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth.

Albus Dumbledore stood near a podium decorated with a moving stone owl dressed in robes of splendid mauve. His hair had been combed down his back and his beard twisted into a French braid that disappeared into his belt. He looked rather jovial with his twinkling blue eyes behind his half-moon glasses. When he saw Harry was looking though he gave the boy a rather inspiring smile and a wink as though he knew what was going to happen and in a way it made the young wizard feel better about the day to come.

Taking up a good section of the stage herself was Madam Maxine the Headmistress of Beauxbaton's Women's Institute for the Magically Inclined, or that what Harry thought the name translated to in English. She was a massive woman in height, clearing nine feet easily and if rumor was correct she had giant blood in her veins. The black haired wizard had seen the woman at times walking with the equally proportioned groundskeeper, Hagrid, and wondered if the two had become an item.

Lastly was the rather intimidating Igor Karkaroff, Headmaster of Durmstrang. He was dressed in black robes and seemed to know Snape well at some point in their past. The two must have had a falling out at some point as they openly glared at one another whenever they were in the same room as each other. The two men did seem to have on thing in common, by the looks in their eyes they both despised the young champion with a vengeance for something he had no idea about.

As he moved to stand beside the other champions he ignored Cedric's not to subtle shift away from his side and instead focused on the crowd. He could see hundred of witches and wizards packed in and packing more by the looks of things. Many had concessions and seemed to be eagerly awaiting the start of the mythic tournament that's main attraction was the high number of deaths it had brought about.

He hoped his friend Hermione was somewhere on the grounds because he couldn't find her in the sea of faces. She alone stood by him and believed him that he didn't enter the stupid tournament. The brainy witch had even been helping him learn spells that they thought might help in the unknown tasks to come and putting her homework off to keep him alive. If one knew Hermione they knew that it was a sign of her friendship that she would put off school work to help someone.

His emerald eyes flashed to Dumbledore again though as the aged wizard raised his wand to his throat and used a spell Harry didn't know, "Sonorus". The result wasn't immediately obvious until the older man opened his mouth and began to speak in a loud booming voice that covered the grounds of Hogwarts without difficulty.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, it is time for the Triwizard Tournament to begin," the oldest person on the stage spoke to the audience. "Our Champions are gathered and their wands have been weighed in and found acceptable. May we please have a warm round of applause for our champions; Cedric Diggory of Hogwarts, Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons, Victor Krum of Durmstrang and representing an unknown school, Harry Potter."

The roar of the crowd was deafening for the students who weren't used to such things even though their older counterparts seemed unaffected.

"Those of us who put the tournament together were rather flummoxed by the reveal of a fourth champion and knew that our tasks would need to reflect the change brought about," he continued after the crowd had died down. "However the nature of the task has changed little. Originally the champions were to draw their opponent from a bag and face an untold danger and that is still the case but now only on a grander scale," the aged headmaster explained before motioning to Ludo Bagman.

The portly former quidditch star produced a rather rough and beaten bag that seemed to have existed for ages and held it up for the crowd to 'ooh' and 'aah' over. A rather fiery glare from the Hogwarts' headmaster though had the man moving to the champions. He held the mysterious bag out to Victor who he came across first and for once the rather sour looking teen looked nervous even as he reached his hand in and closed his fingers around what would be his task and withdrew it.

The raven haired teen blinked at the sight of what Krum had produced. It wasn't some insane monster or anything wizard related at all. Rather he held a case what oddly enough looked like a video game's clam case to the fourteen year old. He had seen his cousin Dudley with enough of them to recognize it almost immediately. Was this the task though? They had to play a video game?

"As you can see," Dumbledore continued addressing the crowd as Ludo moved on to a confused Fleur, "the champions are drawing what many would consider simple muggle video games. And they are would be right to think such a thing, however with magic so many wondrous options are open to us in this time." He paused as Cedric now reached in and drew out a game and his eyes settled on Harry for a moment before turning away to the crowd again. "These games, with research and development by our own Department of Magical Games and Sports will serve as the first task of the Triwizard Tournament."

The young teen swallowed thickly as he reached into the bag Ludo held in front of him. He closed his eyes as he felt for something and hoped it was going to be something easy and not life threatening. His fingers fumbled about before he felt something different. It wasn't a simple plastic case with a pretty cover but felt almost like a book cover. His curiosity peaked he withdrew his choice and sealed his fate.

It was a gray cover that reminded him of steel in a way with a dragon imprinted in silver in the very middle.

 _The Elder Scrolls V_

 ** _SKYRIM_**

 _Legendary Edition_

 _Winner Of_

 _More Than 200 Game Of The Year Awards_

 _-Includes-_

 ** _Dawnguard, Hearthfire_**

 _and **Dragonborn**_

The game claimed to be the PC edition and he wondered if the others had gotten the same or perhaps the console editions of their own games. He also thought that it probably didn't matter in the long run.

"Our Champions have made their decisions," Dumbledore's voice rang out again as he looked over the crowd. "Victor Krum has chosen Grand Theft Auto San Andreas, a rather violent game if what I hear is true. Fleur Delacour has had the wonderful luck of choosing Assassin's Creed Four Black Flag an interesting game that I'm sure she'll do fine in," he said sounding rather chipper. "Cedric Diggory has picked Bioshock two and we wish him the best of luck. Harry Potter, our final champion, has drawn the Elder Scrolls five, Skyrim, an amusing game from what our muggleborn students tell me."

The elderly wizard waved his wand into the air, not verbalizing his spell this time, and summoned four gigantic mirrors that gleamed in the rising sun's light. A second spell was cast toward the champions, one at a time, and the reflecting sunlight became an over the shoulder view of each champion allowing the crowd to see what was going on around each competitor.

"The creation method of these mirrors was given to us by one Remus Lupin, our students may remember him as our Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor last year. He and his school friends would apparently use similar mirrors to communicate over vast distances and now with a monitoring charm we will be able to see our champions as they compete for points their various selections," the old man said excitedly.

"Thanks to the remarkable research done by our Ministry of Magic we have created a spell that will allow our champions to visit another world so long as they have something of that world in their possession," Dumbledore continued. "The games selected are all they need to see a new world and go where no wizard has gone before." The headmaster seemed as eager as a child in a candy store told to have at it. "Now if our champions will please, space themselves apart, we can begin."

The champions parted easily to outside of arms reach from one another and held their games. A faint smile fell on Harry's lips as he stared down at the game he had chosen before closing his eyes as a warm thought came to his mind. Maybe this was his chance to escape the world as he had hoped. Somehow, this moment, it just felt right.

He opened his eyes to see a smiling Dumbledore staring down at him with a friendly smile. He looked to his left and saw the other champions had already disappeared and a quick look at the mirrors above showed them in various states about to begin their quests. "Good luck Harry," Dumbledore said in a quiet voice that seemed to mean he had taken the voice projection charm off. "I know you can do it. Pons ad Novum Orbem!"

Dumbledore looked up at the mirror where the boy he had come to care about should have appeared only to see a flash of gold as bright as the sun shine for a second. Suddenly the mirror saw into the back of a cart as it traveled down a stone road carrying three prisoners. The old man smiled glad to see everything was going according to plan. Turning back to the crowd he touched his throat with his wand again.

"I may have forgot to mention something important," he said calmly. "Time is a marvelous thing and one taken for granted. However in a world of gaming it seems as though time moves forward much quicker. So don't be surprised if our mirrors don't catch everything that happens or if days and nights pass in the span of hours. It's perfectly normal," he said with a reassuring smile.

* * *

The world had fallen away from the youth, the crowd had gone silent after Dumbledore spoke his spell and the sun's light had vanished and then the world roared to life again. He sat with his hands bound by what felt like heavy ropes dressed in something that did not protect him from the cold weather. The boy turned his head to see where he was and found three other men bound similar to himself including one in rags. The man sitting beside him seemed important, especially with the gag that kept him from speaking.

"Ah, so your awake," one of the men said catching Harry's attention. The man was bound like the others with stringy blond hair and blue eyes. One thing about though was the man had huge arms and seemed to know about a day's worth of real hard work. He wore armor of blue and brown thick padding and seemed interesting in just making conversation which the brown haired much thinner prisoner beside him seemed willing to oblige.

The wizard though was using this time to look at the world around him. The tall trees and hard stone road were breathtaking. The carriage that carried him toward wherever he was going was rough and made of cheap wood probably in case it ever needed to be broken down. The ride was bumpy and jostled the four men in back but the wizard ignored that as he felt he had bigger problems to worry about.

He hadn't thought to look down until the horse in front of the cart decided to release its bowels and fill the cart with its stink. When he did though he was struck by a rather ominous sight, he didn't seem to have a body. If he didn't have a body then how had that man talked to him just moments before? How did they even know he was there?

His questions died in his head as the thief began to freak out over something, drawing his attention back to the conversations.

"Ulfric Stormcloak? The Jarl of Windhelm," the man said in a terrified whisper. "But, oh gods, if they've captured you then where are they taking us," he asked looking from the gagged man who was named Ulfric to the man beside him looking for answers.

"I don't know where we are going," the blonde said with a sigh as he turned to look at an upcoming stone wall and archway. "However, Sovngarde awaits," he said in a manner as though he was making peace with his life.

It wasn't hard for the teen to understand the implications of what the men were talking about. Ulfric Stormcloak must have been a high profile prisoner and they were being taken to die. The wizard would have smiled if he had a body with which to do so. He was in an alien world and about to die for something he didn't do. So, he was right back at where he was that morning.

"General Tullius the military governor," the blonde said as he looked over the side of the cart at a man in red and silver armor on horseback talking to a group of men in black robes. "The Thalmor are with him," he growled, "damn elves. I be they had something to do with this," he finished. He and Harry ignored the thief as he prayed for assistance from the world's Gods. "This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here," the blonde began to ramble in his life's memories causing Harry's attention to wonder.

The cart soon rolled to a stop and Harry spotted another cart stopped not far away. The prisoners were ordered out and stood, though Harry felt more of a floating situation, and began to climb down off the back of the cart.

"When we call your name step up to the block," a rather angry looking woman said as she stood next to a man holding a scroll and a inked quill.

It was the man who read the names off to them. Ulfric Stormcloak and Ralof of Riverwood both marched to the block with their heads held high. The horse thief, whose name Harry wasn't even sure he heard, took off running hoping for freedom, only to be shot with arrows for his troubles.

"You there," the man said looking at what Harry guessed was floating eyeballs in suspended space. Still he moved forward and almost chuckled as he heard his steps impact the dirt beneath his feet. "Who are you," the list man asked.

Suddenly he wasn't looking at the man and woman anymore but was instead staring at his own body from the outside. It was probably one of the most disturbing things he felt he had ever experienced and that included the damn dementors last year. As he moved to choose to keep his body the way it was though something stopped him. Not a voice from within or any form of self protection, but an actual human hand of shimmering gold that latched onto his body's shoulder.

He followed the hand to the arm it was attached to and the golden sleeve that started at the wrist. He followed the sleeve to a light green robe and then up to a neck of golden scales and the face that reminded him of the baby dragon, Norbert. The figure seemed to radiate a power and strength far beyond anything the wizard had encountered before and grew fearful. He was intruding in another world, stepping into the shoes of a destined hero he didn't know.

"Be at peace child," the dragon head said calmly and Harry felt that if his dragon's jaws could the being would smile. "I am Akatosh, God of Time and Father of Dragons," the impressive being said as he stepped away from Harry's body and leaned against the cart. "Right now we are in a suspended moment, a fraction of a second that will continue until I say otherwise. You have returned at a most interesting time."

The disembodied wizard blinked and mentally shook his head. "I apologize, your.. uh.. Godship," he said wincing at the vocabulary, "however I think you are mistaken. I've never been to this world before. My world is holding a contest between students in a school you see and we had to choose a world at random to save for points."

The dragon god held up his hand to stop Harry's explanation. "One of my powers, Harry Potter, is to see a person's timeline. I see you now, I see you as you were and where you'll be," the god of time explained. "The Triwizard Tournament and your entry were not coincidence, you know that already. Luckily, Tamriel, especially Skyrim will help you achieve things you never thought possible. Though, you'll never be just Harry here."

The dragon headed figure crossed his arms again and looked from Harry's presence to the Harry standing in front of the guards. "I cannot divulge everything to you, the laws of Mundus are clear that no mortal should know its fate and I am bound to that law the same as any being," he explained. "However, I wanted to talk to you about some things that your wizards have foolishly allowed to happen."

The dragon god didn't let Harry speak as he pushed forward. "The magic they used to send you to Mundus used a copy of the Elder Scrolls game that was mean for a computer of your world. They know nothing of the energies and advances in technology of the mundane world and didn't see any harm in what they did but we, what the people of this world call the Aedra and the Daedra, most certainly did. The Internet is a vast and powerful thing on your world a global power your people ignore but it doesn't ignore them. Using what they call muggle games mixed with magic combined technology and the arcane and let the Internet have its say as well.

"The people of your world have found ways to rewrite our world's laws and make it new again in ways even I had never for seen and so those new laws have been written into this world." He pushed himself from the cart and walked toward the standing body of the wizard. "Those changes you will have to discover on your own, though I doubt you'll even know what they are when you find them. That said, I must rewrite something myself," the time god said sadly.

"The hero of the age was meant to be Dragonborn, a being born with the soul of a dragon and the ability to speak the dragon's tongue," Akatosh said with a look at Harry's body. Casually he reached up to the list of menu options that stood beside the boy and flickered through them. Harry saw himself as a human, an elf, a lizard man and a cat, before stopping on human again. "You will need a dragon's soul to face my children in this world, Harry Potter, and there are few who would offer to join with you to slay their siblings."

The wizard stepped forward in surprise and anxiety. "What am I supposed to do then? I don't know the full details about the spell that brought me here if I die here, I might be dead for good. I'll go to Sovngarde or wherever Ralof was talking about, but I want to see my parents in the afterlife back home."

"I understand," the golden deity said with a fire in his eye. "Which is why I said there were few who would offer to join with you. Luckily one of my children has been trapped for a long time and will agree to help you survive and keep the world I helped create from being consumed. He'll claim its only a matter of pride but I know he is truly remorseful for his crimes," the god said sadly before turning his head to the sky. " ** _Dovah Kren Tiid! DUR NEH VIIR_**!"

A roar tore at the heavens causing Harry to look upward in shock. A dragon beat its wings against the air and seemed to rain down pus and ooze with every flap. It circled the town of Helgen before landing on the wall behind Akatosh and giving the mortal a good look at the creature that would be helping him. It was a sickly gray-green color as pus oozed out from beneath rotting scales. Large spikes protruded from its back starting at its neck and traveling down to its spade shaped tail. Four horns jutted forward from the sides of its head as flies buzzed around its decaying body.

"Father," the dragon said in awe as it lowered its head, its neck nearly touching the wall its perched upon. "I never thought I would hear your voice call my name again." It's voice was rough seemingly from years of misuse but it spoke calmly and with admiration. It was obviously intelligent unlike the dragons of Earth and Harry thought it sounded rather well read. "I do not have long before the Ideal Masters recall me to the Soul Cairn but I am glad I have been given the opportunity to speak to you once more."

"Ah, my child, would you think I would call only to have you be taken again," Akatosh said with a shake of his draconic head. "I have summoned you to free you of your bargain to the Ideal Masters. This is Harry Potter, a world traveler whose quest it is to save Mundus from your brother," he explained motioning to the out of body teen. "However, to combat my wayward child he must become Dovahkiin, Durnehviir," the god said to explain the plight.

"I understand Father," the large dragon said before it climbed down the wall and moved to stand beside Harry's body. "He is not much to look at," Durnehviir said with a glance at the teen's small body before seemingly shrugging his wings. "I want free of the Soul Cairn and the World Eater will not have what I could not," he growled in frustration. "I will gladly accept your plan, Father."

"Wait what plan," Harry asked glad he had finally found his voice. He was standing before a God and a Dragon seemingly trying to decide his fate and he didn't like not having a say in that at all. "This is my body we're talking about and I think I should get the final say in what happens to it."

The gold dragon nodded. "You are correct Harry Potter. To combat a dragon and truly finish it they must be Dragonborn, a warrior born with the soul of a dragon. They can use a power called the Voice or Thu'um the language of the dragons and the source of their power. I plan on melding your soul with Durnehviir's granting him freedom from a trap he found himself in and allowing you to complete your task."

"But, what will happen to us," the wizard asked after a moment of thought. "If we are to merge then won't our personalities clash?"

"Durnehviir will be inside you," Akatosh said carefully, "he will be a part of you but he will not be you. Durnehviir's powers will be yours to command, Harry, and he can help guide you on your way through this world but only in nudges and some subconscious pushing. He'll be free of his prison you will be able to save the world."

The raven haired boy was silent for a long moment before he nodded. "Alright then, if it will help us both than I agree."

"Freedom at last," the rotting dragon breathed in relief before his scales began to burn red hot. The dragon's body began to burn with a fire so hot it was purple and the ash began to blow in the breeze toward the wizard. The disembodied spirit watched as his body inhaled the ash of the dragon's bones and scales before a rain of lights began to fly from the fire and seemed to pass right through the boy's chest.

"Excellent," Akatosh said before stepping up to the child and staring down at where Harry perceived himself to be. "I would say use the body creator to fix the problems you've face in the past," he said with a frown. "However one of the modified laws allows you to grow as you level, its rather impressive," the god said with a grin. "I just have one request when you get to the part where you select your name," the dragon god said with a smile and leaned forward. "Remind the Thalmor that Skyrim belongs to the Nords, Ysmir Wulfharth."

In a flash as bright as the sun itself the god was gone. Harry stared at the body creator with a new respect and mentally bit his lip. Maybe a new hairstyle or some warpaint wouldn't be that bad...

* * *

Maybe tweaking wasn't the right word. There wasn't exactly much that the young wizard could do with the sliding bars other than tweak his body. He had thought about playing as another creature, the Argonian or Khajiit would be a fun thing to experiment with but in the end he had chosen to be a Nord. It was certainly a change from his body's original British or Breton appearance. His hair fell down his neck with its new length and a single braid fell from his temple to his chin.

His arms were bigger than he had ever experienced his life before and made it sort of uncomfortable to have them bound in front of his body, especially with a broader chest. He felt rather like he could have been a blacksmith's assistant or a stable-boy before being captured. His green eyes were stronger than they had been and the world wasn't a blur without his glasses now something he eagerly looked forward to testing out... if he wasn't about to die.

He was dressed in rags similar to the thief he had seen try and run but now he didn't even feel the cold in the air around him. He wondered if the changes would be permanent or last for only the duration of the time he was in Skyrim. He sort of hoped that they would follow him back into the real world so he could show them all he wasn't some scrawny little kid anymore.

The man with the list coughed though and brought Harry back to the present. The man had asked for his name and he was supposed to answer. He opened his mouth to say his real name but stopped. Akatosh had given him a name, one that seemed to have power. He could use that to his advantage he supposed.

"My name is Ysmir," he said slowly looking the nord in the eyes and watching them widen in shock. "I am Ysmir Wulfharth," he declared to the new world.

The older nord seemed to swallow thickly understanding the name in a way that Harry didn't know but looked toward the woman beside him with a frown. "What do we do captain? He isn't on the list."

The angry Imperial woman glared at the man and then toward the young nord wizard with a fierce glower. "He goes to block with the others," she said with disdain, obviously not happy that the teen wasn't on her precious list.

"By your orders captain," the nord said before turning to the youth again. "I'm sorry, Prisoner, but you heard the captain," he said with a shake of his blonde hair. "At least you'll die here in the home of your ancestors."

Harry eyed the man with a glare before he followed after the woman in shiny steel armor and made his way toward the group of blue clad soldiers standing in a row before the headsman. Today was a day that would end in bloodshed, he just hoped it wasn't his own. He stopped and watched as the man Ralof had said to be General Tullius condemned the Jarl of Windhelm for using the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne.

Akatosh hadn't mentioned that normal humans could use the Voice as well. If that was the case then why bind his and Durnehviir's souls together? He winced as the first man had his head removed and watched the blood splatter the ground as the held fell into a basket. These men were brave and willing to die for the cause they fought for. Perhaps he could be the same.

A roar ripped the air causing the men and women to pause and look around in shock. "Captain did you hear that," the nord with the list asked in surprise.

"It was nothing," she growled and pointed toward Harry. "Next, the Nord in the rags," she demanded. As the teen stepped forward he expected someone to cry out that he was just a boy but none came to his rescue. Either the men and women of this world were made of sturdier stuff then in his own world, or they just didn't care.

He was violently shoved down onto his knees and he felt the woman's armored boot smash into his back forcing his head onto the block. His green eyes watched as the executioner raised his ax to remove his head when something caught his eye. Another dragon swooped down from atop a nearby mountain and released a roar that shook the very ground.

This dragon dwarfed Durnehviir in size and seemed to radiate raw hatred and heat. Its black scales were highlighted by a burning red glow from within as fire seemed to blaze from its eye sockets. Its bottom jaw as made of steel as the scales on its underside were armored with black metal that seemed to glow under the heat they were bombarded with from within the creature's stomach. It was terrifying to behold and made him suck in air as it flew down toward the village.

It landed on top of the tower the headman had been set up in front of and released a roar that sent the people around Harry tumbling like tumbleweeds across the ground. The sky filled with dark rumbling cloud before meteors of different size and shape began to pelt the ground and houses around them, shattering the towers and instantly killing any who got in their way.

Harry wasted no time in rolling away from the headsman's block grabbing his executioner's ax. He wasn't new to the whole have his life in peril thing and quickly cut his bonds and stood up to face his attacker. Only the dragon wasn't on the tower anymore. He looked one way and then the other but could only hear its roar and figured the thing had taken into the sky.

"You there," Ralof's voice cut him off and he turned to see the soldier crouched low to the ground. "Come on, the Gods won't give us another chance," the man said before turning to run into a nearby tower. Instinctively the wizard flipped the long handled ax around and slid it into the back of his ragged shirt before chasing after the blonde.

He never saw the pale white stick of Holly resting on the seat of the carriage he had come to Helgen in.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note**_ : One of the big things people asked me for was a list of the mods being added to Skyrim, a full detailed list of what is going in to the story and I'm happy to oblige.

 **Mods:**

 _More Draconic Dragon Aspect_ by Stania (Absolutely Beautiful)

 _Dragons Diversified_ by LoginToDownload

 _Colorful Dragons 3 HD_ by Luddemann

 _Bijin Warmaidens_ by rxkx22

 _Bijin Wives_ by rxkx22

 _Deadly Wenches_ by Kozuke Hajime

 _Immersive Wenches_ by Kozuke Hajime

 _Touched By Dibella_ by TheMilkDrinker

 _Tamaria Soul-Tamer Standalone Mixed Elf Follower 7Base_UNPB_ADEC_CBBE_CHSBHC New Preview Video Added_ by MissBonjovi

 _Expanded Towns and Cities_ by missjennabee

 _Populated Cities_ by Pandazooka

Various Armor Mods

Harry's Skyrim Home will start off as Vanilla but will grow as the story goes and the teen begins to make connections and resources throughout the world.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Author's Note:_** Whew, another chapter down for the rewrite. Buckle in boys and girls because this is going to be a LONG story. Unlike the original, there won't be everything handed on a silver plate. No giant castle, no unstoppable Daedra army, no woman after woman just falling into Harry's lap... at least not all at once. Harry will become a Power in Skyrim as his name suggests he should be and will the roar of the Shezarrine Dovahkiin will shake the land of the Nords to its Dwemer foundations.

I want to thank you all for your suggestions in stories and games for the second task, and I'm proud to say that I recently got my hands on one and well, it will be fun though I'm still learning the mechanics for it... The Witcher 2: Assassins of Kings.

So the stories and Tasks will go in order:

First Task: Shezarrine Dovahkiin (Skyrim)

Second Task: Llew Dhu (Witcher)

Third Task: Mael Nuorrore (Blizzard)

As you can see, I'm trying to keep the names of the Tasks in the language of their worlds. Llew Dhu means Black Lion in Welsh which is used as the Elder Tongue of the Witcher Series, and Mael Nuorrore is Dark Savior in Thalassian, the language of Elves in Warcraft. A Shezarrine is an influential and sometimes god-like figure who is believed to be a mortal incarnation of the Missing God, Lorkhan, or one of his aspects; Shor and Shezarr. Dovah-kiin is Dragon born in the language of Dragons. Huh, huh, see what I did there?

Now, I'll stop rambling. Story Time

* * *

Smoke poured into the sky from the ruined town of Helgen behind him. The wizard had managed to travel below the town thanks to the nearby Keep into the caverns beneath and into the sunshine again. Skyrim was not like being home at all and it was a fact he had to learn quickly. A person would think that a dragon attacking would have unified the people but instead the rebels and the imperials had kept fighting each other despite the threat circling overhead.

What would the people at home think of him now? He stared through the edges of the hood he had looted off a dead man's corpse at the headman's axe he still carried. Its blade was stained red and green with blood and ichor that dripped down onto the path that lead to the cave he had just exited. He had followed the nord named Hadvar through the keep, spilling the blood of the blue clad Stormcloaks as they fought them at each turn.

By the time he reached the spiders beneath the town he had already slain eight men. It was nauseating to watch the blood of men who only fought for what they believed in drip from his weapon of choice. They had be coming to kill him, thought he was the enemy or a traitor as he scavenged their bodies for armor, weapons and potions. He had defended himself in the only way he could think too. Now there were mother's missing sons, fatherless children and widowed wives all because he wanted to live.

The ax dropped to the ground with a clatter as he rushed to the bushes beside the trail and emptied the contents of his stomach. His throat burned as he turned back to a sorrowful looking Hadvar who was eyeing the sky with worry. The Imperial was watching him with the look he detested beyond all others; pity. Standing fully to his feet he wiped the bile from his mouth on his stormcloak right gauntlet before whipping his hand, slinging the contents of his gut into onto the dirt. "Don't look at me like that."

The dirty blonde haired man turned his head from the youth but it did nothing to divert Harry's anger. That look always got to him and made him feel dirty as if his life didn't measure up to how people thought he should be living. Scorn and rejection he was used to, he grew up on those looks, but pity was something he couldn't stand in the least.

He stared down at the imperial steel gauntlet on his left hand and squeezed it into a fist. The steel on his chest and legs weighed him down but the hide boots made walking easier and quieter. A warhammer was strapped to his back alongside a quiver of arrows and a long bow and a steel sword hung on off his waist. He hadn't found a shield but hopefully he would be able to locate one in time. There had been so much death already today that he rather hoped he didn't need to spill more blood before nightfall.

He looked up at the sky and watched the sun burn at its zenith and frowned. So much had happened at it was only midday and it didn't feel right. He looked back at the cave and wondered just how long he had spent in the keep and the cavern beneath. It had felt like less than an hour but the sun had moved so far in that time that maybe he had lost track of the time.

"I'm sorry for what they tried to do," Hadvar finally spoke breaking the silence of the last minute. "A child shouldn't be killed for being at the wrong place at the wrong time. I'll need to head toward Riverwood," he explained pointing down the path that they were on. "I don't know where your home is, Ysmir Wulfharth, but I hope you can make it from here. I'll need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun about the dragon attack."

The raven haired boy nodded as the two began to walk down the path leading from the cave. The headsman's axe left on the ground where it had fallen. "When you grow up, you should head to Solitude," the Nord continued to speak. "We could use men like you in the war against the Stormcloaks."

Harry remained silent. He didn't think he wanted to be involved in a civil war that he wasn't born into. Let the men and women of Skyrim fight for their lands and beliefs while he did what he could to finish the game and get home. This wasn't his home and their fight was not his concern. He felt dirty in this world and his soul tainted by the deaths at his hands. The blood that flowed from their necks wasn't digital, the fire caused by the oil on the ground wasn't make believe. His stomach rebeled against him but he had nothing left inside.

The two came upon a fork in the path as it opened into a road. A sign in the middle pointed down either path with wooden arrows and scripted white words. To the left and down the hill was Riverwood and toward the right and up the crest of the hill the road lead to Ivarstead. "My uncle lives in Riverwood," Hadvar said helpfully with a look at the young nord beside him. "He's a blacksmith and could probably use some help as he's getting up in age," he hinted.

The green eyed boy stared at the ground clad in half imperial armor and half stormcloak. Hadvar was trying to help him out and was offering him a choice. If he followed the man to Riverwood he would have a job and a base to start his quest in this world. If he went right he was on his own as he always had been. His head turned to look down the path toward Riverwood where he could see a flowing river in the distance and listened to its gurgling echo. "I always wanted to try my hand at smithing," he said quietly.

Flowers were in bloom along the road and Hadvar took a moment at each new color to explain just what the flower was and how it could be used. The raven haired teen smiled at the thought of someone actually teaching him potions or Alchemy as he learned it was called in this world. He couldn't help but chuckle at the look he could picture on Snape's face as the thought of him learning his favored class.

They saw wild animals everywhere along the trail to Hadvar's home town. Rabbits darted from the bushes being chased by foxes while elk trotted just beyond the tree lines. He could have sworn he even heard a bear roaring in the distance at one point. Another lesson broke up their walk though as they came upon a set of stones uniquely carved and standing beside the river.

"Those are called standing stones," the older nord taught as he stepped forward. "No one knows who carved them or exactly what they do. However its said if you pray at a standing stone it will grant you knowledge faster. These are the Magician, the Thief and the Warrior."

The wizard stepped among the stones and looked at them intensely. The pack he had found in the torturer's chamber in the Keep bounced and jangled with gold and lockpicks as he knelt to look at the stones. The magician was an obvious choice for the wizard but he held himself back from selecting it. He was in a new world and learning new things after all so why learn what he would at school? He turned from the stone and easily dismissed the Thief to stare at the Warrior. It seemed to call his name, his true name, and he brushed his hand across its carved surface.

A noise like static filled the air and he backed away quickly. The top of the standing stone was glowing and had shot a ray of light into the sky that disappeared into the clouds overhead. "Not bad, I was certain this was the life for you," Hadvar said kindly as he turned and began to walk down the path toward Riverwood. Harry had to jog to keep up.

"Is your name really Ysmir Wulfharth," the nord asked after a few minutes of walking. He looked at his companion to see him smiling at the question.

The teen shook his head at the older man and decided to answer truthfully. "When you asked me in Helgen, I was prepared to give you my true name but I was stopped by a vision of Akatosh," he said honestly and saw the Nord look at him in shock. "He told me to remind the Nords of who they really are, and the Empire as well. He named me Ysmir Wulfharth and that is the name I gave you."

"An honorable name with a long history," Hadvar said with a sound of awe in his voice. "The name will make you enemies, Ysmir. The Thalmor will hate you for it and most of the Empire will look on you as a traitor before meeting you. The Stormcloaks will hunt you for blasphemy against Talos and the other Nords will see you as a False Dragon."

"They won't be the first to hate me," was his only answer as the two continued along beside the river. They stopped only once so that Hadvar could tell him about Bleak Falls Barrow which sat atop the mountain across the river before making their way to Riverwood.

The main gate stood looming over path and Hadvar released a sigh at the sight of it. "It's bigger than I remember," he admitted as he pushed on. They were waved to by a pair of guards who were walking along the top of the gate and heard an elderly woman sitting on her porch proclaim that she had seen the dragon. Hadvar's eyes hardened at her words. "We'll need to get word to the Jarl and to the Imperial Legion in Solitude," he said with determination.

The home of Hadvar's uncle was not that far into the town and easily recognizable as a blacksmith's home and shop by the smelter standing near the street and the forge burning on small column of bricks above the wooden porch. A dark haired man with some white streaks in his hair and beard was shoveling coals into the smelter as they approached, a thick leather apron strapped around his neck and waist.

"Uncle Alvor," Hadvar called out as they approached and waved his hand toward the man to draw his attention. The large man turned to look for who called his name and broke into a joyful laugh at the sight of his nephew. "By the Gods it's been too long," the Legionnaire said before he wrapped the much broader man in a hug.

"Hadvar," the jovial blacksmith said as he patted the soldier's back, knocking the wind from his lungs. "Ha ha, Sigrid and Dorthe will be glad to see you lad," he said before something seemed to dawn on him as he pulled from his nephew holding him at arms reach. "The war isn't coming to Riverwood is it?"

The soldier shook his head. "No, Uncle, but there are worse things," he said with a look around to make sure no one was listening in. "This is Ysmir Wulfharth," he said introducing the boy who stood behind him. "We were in Helgen when there was a," he paused as though looking for the right words, "an attack." He looked his uncle right in the eye as he spoke as though trying to trying to convey a message without words.

The message seemed to pass easily as Alvor nodded. "Come on lad, lets go inside and speak," the blacksmith continued as he slammed his shovel spade first into the ground so it will remain standing. "Your friend is welcome to come in as well. You two look like you could use fattening up," he said as he began to lead the way to his homes front door.

* * *

Life in Riverwood seemed like a blessing to the youth who had spent his younger years toiling at the Dursley's knew the value of hard work and elbow grease. He worked for Alvor during much of the day but had to earn his room at the Sleeping Giant as well. Alvor had taught him a lot about smithing in just a few days, allowing him to work with materials he had in the shop within reason. He had forged several daggers and even a hide helm, and was currently learning to create armor from iron.

Today he had set out early in a pair of simple work clothes to the hills outside of Riverwood. He kept his sword on his waist and his bow and arrows on his back but also carried a pickaxe for the day. His pack was full of apples, carrots and some ale which he had come to enjoy the taste of. He was going up to the Embershard Mines located between Riverwood and the ruins of Helgen to mine ore for the day to take back to Alvor to learn smelting.

He quickly scaled the hill to the front of the mine but stopped as he heard someone muttering up ahead. His hand fell onto the hilt of his sword as he scaled the final steps and peaked through the bushes. An orc stood just to the right of the entrance, his powerful arms folded and a mace hanging from his waist. He wore a old and ragged leather armor that seemed to have seen much better days and was covered in blood where the orc clearly didn't have scars.

'Bandits,' Harry thought with a groan as he looked back down the hill toward the town. He could easily go back and alert the guards but something urged him not to. Looking toward the south he could see the light from the warrior stone blazing even in the morning light and sighed. He had chosen his path and he wouldn't back down here. Mustering his courage he stepped forward out of the bushes and in sight of the orc.

The black eyes of the orc looked at him for a moment before he shook his head. "You shouldn't have come here kid," the man growled as he stepped forward drawing his mace before charging. Harry knew that the orc at his size would decimate him with the weapon if he only used his sword and quickly rolled to the left, stopping just in front of Alvor's cart that sat beside the mine and brought up his pickaxe as well.

The orc came again and swept his mace through the air but the smaller teen ducked, sliding under the green skinned man's arm and clipping his unprotected side with his sword drawing first blood. The fanged man cried out in pain and turned to attack but the wizard moved with him, keeping to his right side and swung the pickaxe with all his might down at his attacker's leg. A sickening 'CRACK' filled the air as the tip of the tool punctured through the knee from behind and shattered the kneecap of his opponent.

Now screaming in pain the orc fell to the ground and the young nord spun around, his sword singing in the morning air before it connected with a sickening thud into the bandit's neck. Another furious swing with the weapon he had found beneath Helgen ended the bandit's life as it separated the head from the shoulders, and sent it tumbling down the hill. The nord teen breathed heavily as he stared down at the crimson ichor that bled out of the stump he had made of his opponent's neck.

Putting his hand on the handle of his digging tool he pulled it out of the bandit's leg with a squelch and cleaned it off on the man's leather armor. His green eyes flashed to the red and silver glimmer standing out from the rock face surrounding the mine's entrance. He walked to the stone and lifted his bloody pickaxe and began to hack at the stone with a ferocity he didn't know he felt. He had taken another life and he doubted the bandit at the door was only the lookout. He would have to shed more blood before the day was done and he could earn his pay from the blacksmith.

His eyes turned back toward the bandit as he pulled a chunk of iron ore free from the vein and dropped it into the cart. Hard work wasn't the only way to get money. Bandits found it by killing and robbing those who they came across and he would put on the orc having received a cut. Putting his pickaxe down he walked to the headless corpse and knelt to begin digging through its pockets.

Forty gold coins and a new mace later, the wizard looked up from his handy work and looked at the entrance to the mines. It would be smarter for him to go back to Riverwood and get the guards to clear the bandits out, but the world turned on gold and he had a job to do. He bet there was more money and treasure inside as well as the obvious iron ore veins. Clipping his mace to his belt he drew his sword once more and walked toward the doors leading to the mine, grabbing his pickaxe as he walked.

Skyrim was a new world and he wasn't Harry Potter here. He was Ysmir Wulfharth named by the God of Time itself. He was the Dragon of the North and he couldn't be a baby about it. The principles of Hogwarts didn't fly if he wanted to get things done. With a sword in one hand and his pickaxe in the other, the blacksmith's apprentice lifted his foot and kicked in the rotting wood that lead underground.

There would be no running from fights.

* * *

A week later found the dark haired nord sitting at the bar in the Sleeping Giant and eating venison as he ignored the grating voice of Sven as he strummed along on his lyre. The poor bastard had gone to the Bard's College in Solitude and been kicked out for some unknown reason. It was apparent that it was failing grades if his voice was anything to go by. Still it was something you had to endure to hear the good rumors that spilled through the inn from travelers staying the night.

Since that day only a week ago he had been listening for the rumors of bandits along the road nearby and moving to take them out. A camp not far from the Standing Stones had been wiped out by the wizard warrior only two nights before. He had been rewarded with a small satchel of gold and a hide shield. that now fit on his back over his bow and quiver. He had also come away with a treasure map, leading him across the river to a hollowed out stump and a treasure chest.

Gold was quickly becoming a commodity for the youth as he sold his weapons and armor from Alvor's shop and hunted the hunters outside his homes walls. He had also discovered something new he could do. If he wanted he could summon fire to his hands and after reading a book he had found next to a tortured mage under Helgen, he could also shoot lightning from his fingers. He didn't have his wand but he wasn't reliant on only steel anymore.

He had visited the Riverwood Trader for more books and spent the money he made on his bandit kills on procuring what he could. Bound Sword, Clairvoyance, Lesser Ward they were simple and easy to master in the arcane ways. It seemed the magic of the world wanted to be used and would give its knowledge to those who wished to travel down that path. There were tales of a College to the north in Winterhold that taught the arcane arts. Ysmir would one day need to venture there to study and learn what he could before returning to Hogwarts.

He didn't know what to call himself at times. The town's people knew him by Ysmir and while it made a few uncomfortable they called him by that name. Harry Potter was the echo in his head, reminding him that he needed to save the world to get back home. The question for the teen was quickly becoming whether or not he wanted to return at all.

"So, looking for another job," Delphine, the owner of the Sleeping Giant, asked as she leaned up against the bar beside him. She was a kind woman to the teen but usually got an attitude when people were caught eavesdropping on other patron's conversations. She was the only person besides possibly Alvor to know about his bandit hunting. He lived in a room at the inn and its difficult to get the blood out of your clothes and sneak through the tavern.

The youth looked at her past the braid in his hair. "I think I've got most the ones who were harassing the travelers to Riverwood," he said honestly as he scratched his nose. "To tell you the truth I was sort of hoping to relax tonight. Alvor taught me how to make studded iron armor today and my arms are killing me from pounding the metal for hours."

The blonde haired woman smirked as she pulled a folded sheet of paper from her cleavage. "That's too bad because the guards Jarl Bulgruuf sent had this. A bounty for a group of bandits near Whiterun Hold," she whispered and put it on the counter in front of the teen. "The place is called the Silent Moons Camp and is home to a legendary forge called the Lunar Forge. It might be a good place to practice your smithing while you are away."

The dark haired nord smirked as he gently put his finger over the note and pulled it closer to him. "Now that does sound interesting," Ysmir admitted as he pocketed the letter. "I'll let Alvor know in the morning that I'm going to go see the Lunar Forge," he said calmly. There was no need to alert the older man to his bounty hunting. After all the less he knew the less chance he had at saying something and putting his family in danger.

"There is supposed to be an old mine near the Camp as well. Iron and such if the rumors are true," she said crossing her arms and watching Sven the Bard strum at his lyre. "Can you imagine that he is still chasing Camilla? The poor woman hasn't shown any interest in him despite the fact she sees him every day on his way here. Sometimes the heart can be a cruel thing."

Harry smirked into his drink, watered down ale with Delphine watching over him, and almost laughed. "Sven's an idiot. I've only been here for a week and I can tell you that," he said with some amusement. Turning on his stool he looked at the patrons as they began to fill up the Inn for the night. "I saw a camp outside the wall this morning. Two bedrolls but I haven't really noticed anyone new in town. Are they clean?"

"A couple of elves wanting to start a life in Skyrim," the owner said with a frown. It was no real mystery that Delphine despised elves, especially the Thalmor. "The man seems alright, a Bosmer archer named Faendal. Word has it he got hired by Gerdur to work at the mill as security with that dragon about," she explained. "The girl is something different. Her names Tamaria Soul-Tamer, isn't a pure elf like a true Bosmer but seems to be a mixed raced Altmer," she nearly spit the name. "Crazy woman, travels around town wearing almost nothing. Disgraceful."

The teen actually did laugh now and put his flagon of watered down ale on the table. "A half naked elf running about Riverwood? I'm surprised I haven't had the pleasure to meet her yet," the teen said with a smirk toward the woman who had taken him in. She shot him a sideways look at that and he grinned wider. "What? I'm a fourteen year old boy," he said with a shrug. "Why wouldn't I want to see something like that."

The blonde woman shook her head. "The night is getting late," she said with a glance toward the hole in the roof that existed above the fire pit to let the smoke out. "If you are going to the Lunar Forge in the morning, you should get some sleep. It's a few days travel from here on horseback, walking is going to be a nightmare," she said with an evil grin.

"Slave driver," the wizard hissed playfully as he stood up from his stool obediently. "I'll be in my usual room, tell Orgnar I'll see him in the morning," he said as he ducked under the woman's hand as it tried to swat his head and gleefully strutted toward his room for the night.

He wasn't sure what time it was when his door was suddenly kicked in during the middle of the night. Rocketing up in bed his and flew to the iron dagger beneath his pillow as he waited for an attack that didn't immediately happen. Instead the person who he could only make out the curved shape of a female silhouette turned from him to shut the door in the face of a very cross looking Delphine. "Thank the Godsh," a woman's voice filled the darkness of the room as he heard the click and snap of metal buckles being undone. "I don't have to shleep on the ground tonight."

Harry could tell whoever the woman was she was about as sloshed as the Weasley Twins after a Quidditch victory. From the sound of it she was also undressing which mean his dagger could do a lot more damage. "Shtupid Faendal," the woman continued to mutter as she stumbled through the room. Both she and Harry ignored the pounding on the door by the owner of the inn. "Falling for the Camilla bitsh," she continued to slur before seeming to find the bed.

"I traveled with him. I came to a whole new land with the ungrateful Boshmer and now he wantsh her! Well she can have him" the strange drunk woman muttered as she pulled the covers off the boy and sat her bare flawless ass just inches from his side. She leaned back and the wizard tensed as her skin met his own. "Oh budge over," the woman said as she pushed her butt up against the nerve racked teen and forcefully pushed him up against the wall. With a contented sigh the strange woman slid under the covers and half heartedly tucked them both into the bed.

Harry didn't get much sleep that night as he lay in the bed next to the inebriated and snoring woman. Sometime in the early hours of the morning she rolled over to face him. Her heavy breasts smacking his arm as she wrapped an arm around his waist and flopped her leg over his. Silently he cursed Hogwarts and its lack of Sexual Education. What exactly was he supposed to do with this? Gods he felt like an idiot.

It wasn't until after dawn that he heard the key in the lock and the door swung open to reveal Delphine in her sleeping dress. Light poured in from the fire that burned in the middle of the tavern and he could see his bedmate properly for the first time. Her red hair fell in long curls about her face but her skin was an odd shade of orange even for an Altmer. Tattoos lined her arms and from the glint beneath her hair he could tell her face and nipples were peirced.

"Enjoying the view," the inn owner asked with a slight laugh. "I'm not going to be angry, or disappointed," she said with a smirk. "I'm your landlord not your mother. If you want to bring strange elves into your room, that's your business," she said before turning and walking away.

The teen sighed as he carefully peeled back his covers and tried to scoot of out of the bed along the wall. He supposed he could just catch a nap along the road to Silent Moon Camp and get back the sleep he had missed for the night. However, all thoughts of sleep were quickly eradicated as he saw the glint of his own iron dagger and a flash of orange skin as the weapon came flying at him.

He barely was able to press himself against the wall hard enough to miss the blade as it zipped by and impaled itself into the wardrobe beside the bed. His dark braid slapped his cheek as he jerked his head to look at the hilt of the dagger sticking out from the dark wood and quickly reached up to pull it free. He was stronger now than he had been when he first arrived, if it was from working as a blacksmith, swinging his sword and mace, or the Warrior Standing Stone, he didn't know. Maybe it was a culmination of all three working to his advantage, but he was no longer unarmed against the woman who broke into his room.

Literally he was no longer unarmed, but mentally he lost all faculties as the woman sat up and stretched. She brushed the auburn hair from her face revealing her amber colored eyes and the piercings that were present in her lips, nose and eyebrow. Two jeweled chains dangled from her orange nipples and jingled as she released her big intake of air. "Oh, what a wonderful sleep," she said as if she had not lobbed his hidden weapon at him with ease just seconds before. Her eyes though soon locked with his green almond shaped orbs and narrowed. "What are you doing in my room," she growled.

"Your in my room," the teen muttered with only half his heart as he observed the naked woman in his bed. Her tight body and her long legs and her perk ass... when had she stood up? Harry blinked as he focused his attention back onto the task at hand. He would not be distracted by an absolutely beautiful... older... naked... woman in room. "This is my room," he said with more force than was probably necessary. "You barged in last night drunker than a person has a mind to be."

The elf nodded as she bent and picked up what she had disrobed last night. Two pieces of snow bear fur lined steel fit around her torso and locked into place on her right side. Bear fur behind chainmail hid her privates as it dangled down to her knees but left the sides of her long legs exposed. Similarly stiled boots and gauntlets lay on the chest at the end of the bed nearest the youth and seemed to complete her look. "Yeah yeah, I heard you the first time," she said and flicked her pierced elven ear.

She sat on the bed to start getting dressed and Harry quickly jumped up to get ready himself. He slipped on a pair of padded trousers with chainmail linked through the thick leather and pair of wolf fur lined boots. A chest plate made of elk hide was fit around his chest with bands of iron fastened on by primitive screws and bolts to be changed out. A short pauldron hung over his right shoulder, allowing easier movement with his sword arm, and a longer pauldron hung to nearly his elbow on his left side for better defense as he held his shield.

"It's not bad," the woman stated as she stood up and looked the teen over. "A lot of room for improvement though," she admitted. "You're the Blacksmith's apprentice right? Heard about you from some of the locals after we arrived," she explained seeing his eyes turn toward her. "I'm Tamaria Soul-Tamer, a bit of a mercenary for hire and after last night apparently an old maid," she said hanging her head in shame at Faendal's rejection.

The boy hesitated for a second. Not sure if the woman was joking or not about the old maid comment. She didn't look any older than seventeen or eighteen to him, but she was an elf so she could have been one hundred and seventy for all he knew. "Ysmir," he said causing her look up at him sharply as he said the name. "I'm Ysmir Wulfharth and if you'll excuse me, I have work," he said holding up the parchment he had gotten from Delphine the night before.

* * *

Albus sat back and smiled as he watched the youngest competitor in the tournament rise and dress for his day in the armor the young champion had made himself. While the old wizard wasn't known for his love of the fairer sex he would admit that the girl he woke beside was rather stunning. Truth be told he didn't like the killing that the boy he thought of as an honorary grandson was taking part in when it came to the bandits but he understood that the world he found himself in was a harsher reality then their own.

He ignored Severus' furious mutterings about the child having everything handed to him. The last week for young Harry showed that he was a dedicated worker, learning the ways of metal forging and keeping the town he found himself in free from bandits. He doubted the boy knew of the time scale passing between worlds as they had been set up. For the young student it seemed that a week had passed, but for the people in the audience watching the mirror, only a few short hours. Harry had a month to complete the task and if the Headmaster's math was right, that gave the boy nearly four years in the game.

The murmuring of the audience was barely registered by the judges as they watched the four screens. Poor Miss Delacour it seemed had chosen a bad hand with her game. The monitoring charm was trained on an individuals body and while the machine called an 'Animus' looked amazing and the details about its use and what it allowed was something he was sure wizards would be trying to produce for years to come they were simply watching the seventeen year old veela sit in a chair with some sophisticated goggles on. It seemed as if a low score was in her future if Madam Maxine didn't think of something quick.

Cedric was doing better than he had expected honestly. The fierce and loyal Hufflepuff was running through an underwater city dressed in what appeared to be an old scuba suit from an earlier decade. He, much like Harry, was forced to kill to survive but in a way it was worse. His opponents were mad, driven that way by the very chemicals that Cedric as now injecting into his body to give himself powers. The substance called ADAM might just have a future in the wizard world as well. He had no doubt that studious Ravenclaws were already planning an expedition into the vast ocean in the hope of finding some of those sea slugs that the Hufflepuff was harvesting.

Poor Victor seemed to have forgotten he was a wizard entirely. The professional quidditch seeker was zooming through the American streets in an automobile that the blue eyed headmaster couldn't recognize. Then again the last time he really paid attention to the automobile industry was about the time of its invention. However, the surely looking teen seemed to know about as much about driving as the older wizard, what with the way he mowed down pedestrians, ran lights, and wrecked every vehicle he came in contact with with.

All in all, the oldest Judge thought that things were going on track. He already had his points in mind for three of the champions. Now, he just needed to see what the youngest champion could do.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Well, I came back. What a rush that was, and HARD AS BALLS. The story and mods I played through for this story took forever and will shape this tale into something I hope will provide some chaos in the future, not just for Skyrim, but for all worlds Harry will be a part of. This is a short chapter, mainly just to show I am back and will be working on this story as my time and ability allows.

Now, enough of my rambling. Lets gets to the story.

* * *

It was a hard cold wind that blew through the valley between Bleak Falls Barrow and the Throat of the World the sort that made even the sturdiest of Nords bring out their furred cloaks and hoods as they continued with their lives. In the distance dark clouds swirled above the horizon to the south their dark gray tones broken by the occasional glitter of distant lightning and the low roll of thunder that echoed through the mountains. To the black haired teen it was just another day in Riverwood as he pulled his shirt over his head and snapped on an iron cuirass that was lined with fur from one of the town's cows. Similarly constructed gauntlets and boots soon followed, while his brown hide pants were padded to not only protect his legs but to ward away the chill of Skyrim's high altitudes and lower tundra.

He sheathed the steel sword that Alvor had helped him smith from the few bars the older man had lying about his forge and chanced to glance at himself in the still water of his room's water basin. He was in another world setting off on an adventure like one of the heroes of a storybook that his aunt used to read to his cousin when they were younger. Though in those the wizards were always the villains and the portly little knight the grand hero of the adventure. Magic was evil after all and it corrupted the best of men. Emerald eyes narrowed at the basin as he turned away from the hood clad figure dressed in armor. There was a saying Harry was beginning to now fully understand away from his world and had the ability to look back on his home.

Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.

That was how Tom Riddle had risen to the rank and title of Dark Lord and become Voldemort. He had the power to turn men to his way of thinking and the magical power to back it up. _"No one survived once he set out to kill 'em, not one, 'cept you."_ Those were the words Hagrid had spoken to him on his eleventh birthday when he told him about how his parents had really died. So, that meant something was going on at home he couldn't begin to understand. Very few people had faced the Dark Lord and come away alive, as far as he knew only two were alive in the present day; Albus Dumbledore and himself. What was it about the two that held off Voldemort's power?

Something wasn't right at home and he knew it, could feel it in his bones.

The door creaked to his private rooms creaked open as he pulled the handle and stepped into the light of the fire pit that sat in the middle of the inn. The usual crowd would be gathering in this room later tonight and rejoicing another day having passed by in this harsher world. Sven would be trying to woo Camilla as she sat across from her brother eating dinner. Alvor would be at the bar with Embry telling tales and whispering rumors with Orgnar the barkeep. Hod might stop by on his way from the mill with Gerdur and enjoy a drink and a bite to eat with their son Frodnar on the way back to their home in the back of town.

He knew them all in some way. A town as small as Riverwood and being the new guy trying to make his way had garnered him some attention from the locals. He had bought his fur cloak from Lucan and Camilla, worked with Alvor at the forge learning to make weapons and armor, lived with Delphine and Orgnar at the inn, and bought firewood from Gerdur and Hod. Every now and then when he had time off and he wasn't bandit hunting he would play a game with Frodnar and Dorthe. He felt closer to the people of Riverwood than he did with the overstuffed residents of Little Whinging after a life time of seeing the same names and faces. He liked it here in Skyrim.

His emerald eyes shot toward the door across the main room as it swung open almost without a sound. He supposed he would have had to leave it to Delphine to oil her hinges while letting her guest door's squeak to know their comings and goings. The blonde was certainly known for keeping an eye out for suspicious activity something that her neighbors thought made her a busy body if still a kind and friendly inn owner. The wizard though knew that she was watching for something. He knew because she acted like he did when he was finding out clues or listening in on conversations about the next adventure for him and his friends.

"So, your heading out," it wasn't a question the woman merely stated facts while crossing her arms over the bodice of her blue dress. Her eyes were scrutinizing, similar to his Aunt Petunia's, as she looked over his armor and cloak. "Iron armor can get you far but I suggest you work on advancing your skills, steel is sturdier and harder to pierce," she advised before her lip quirked up on a smirk as she stepped forward with a slight softness in her eyes. "You're heading out into a bigger world now. You aren't a boy and you can do whatever you want, even if it doesn't bring you back to Riverwood," she said honestly. "Just send a letter my way from time to time."

The teen smiled at the older woman. Why couldn't his aunt have been like Delphine? "Thank you," he tried to say, but it seemed to run afoul of the sudden lump in his throat and simply came out as a whisper.

"I may not know your full story, Ysmir," she said with a quiet voice. "You made no attempt to go home though and tried to make a life for yourself here in Riverwood, so I assume you have no home to return to, no family that concerns you, and no ties to anywhere else in Tamriel," she said with a gleam in her eye. "However, I feel you are about to embark on an adventure few could possibly imagine and for that, for that I think your parents would be proud," she said with a smile at the teen. "Now, go show this world was Ysmir Wulfharth can do."

The teen gave the woman a long look before nodding his head. Shouldering a dark brown bear skin backpack with a tent and bedroll hanging from its bottom and a cooking pot jangling on its side he turned to the door and made his way out into the sunlight on the oncoming storm from the south. The shaggy gray furred dog named Stump looked up from its place on the road and gave a bark toward the wizard as he made his way down the steps toward the main road. He was setting out for another adventure and this time he wouldn't be meeting one of the people involved in his parents demise. He was looking forward to the experience for once.

Across the road he could see Hod and Gerdur working at the mill on the small island just off the bank of the river and saw Frodnar and Dorthe playing a game of tag between the mill and Alvor's home. With a smile on his face he turned toward the distant bridge and began to take his first real step on his journey when his foot caught on something and he fell flat on his face. Spitting out a wad of what he hoped was mud he glanced down at the offending thing that had sent him face first onto the road and glared at the stupid chicken which merely cocked its head at him and let out a indignant squawk.

The sound of approaching footsteps caused the youth to look up and spot the leather apron clad blacksmith hurrying toward him. "Ysmir, I'm glad I caught you," Alvor said with a chuckle as he stopped just short of the youth and reached out to grasp his hand, pulling him to his feet. "I have a gift for you before you head to this mysterious forge of yours," he said as he reached behind his back and held a hunter's bow out along with a quiver of arrows. "A man should not go out into the world without a means to catch his meal," the dark haired Nord scolded the teen teasingly. "Unless you are looking for a young lass to sink your teeth into," he finished with a belly laugh.

"I don't really see a woman in my future," Harry admitted softly as he took the bow and arrows. He slipped the bow into a sleeve built for it on his pack and hung the quiver from his hip. "Thank you Alvor. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't decided to hire me and help me when I arrived," the teen said truthfully.

"You speak to much, Ysmir," the blacksmith said with a fond smile as he patted the teen on his shoulder. "Now then, I have a message for you. Just came earlier this morning," he said as he withdrew a folded piece of parchment from his apron and handed it to the youth. "I got one as well. The Jarl, Balgruuf, wants to meet with us when we get an opportunity to head out to Whiterun. You'll be passing by the city on your travels, no better time to meet him," he said honestly. "I'll be heading out in a few days myself. I have a big order to feel for the General in Solitude but maybe I'll meet you in town. We can go see the famous Skyforge together, maybe bring home some Skyforged Steel for the wife and Dorthe."

"I'll keep an eye out for you, Alvor," Harry said with a grin.

"You better keep both eyes peeled unless you want to trip over me like you did that chicken," the blacksmith said with a chuckle before patting the dark haired youth on the shoulder once more. With nothing more to say the two men turned from each other and headed into the future. Alvor stopped on his porch and turned to watch his apprentice as he walked into the shadow of the barracks beside the Sleeping Giant Inn and felt a soft hand on his arm. Turning he spotted his wife Sigrid holding a hot apple pie in one hand and watching the boy walk away as well. "He'll be back Sigrid, all roads pass through Riverwood," he said with a smile as he put his arm around her shoulder and lead her back into their home.

The road out of Riverwood was a quick journey with the town limit being the guard's walkway over top of the stone arch just beyond the barracks but to the fourteen year old it felt like one of the longest in his life. It was as he was crossing the shadowed space beneath the arch though that something would happen to make his long journey to the Lunar Forge seem to take less time. He wasn't really expecting anything to happen after he crossed the small town's border but a near silent 'thunk' behind him had him spinning around to find a blade's tip against his stomach.

The auburn hair was a quick give away, especially with the skin the color of a tanned orange that colored the face beneath it. Hazel eyes sparkled with smirk as the woman stood up from her crouch after having dropped from the walkway above. Her steel armor was more a set of bra cups made of steel with leather straps pulling them tight around her body. A set of steel shoulder guards were fit tightly around her fit arms with a pair of iron gauntlets that almost looked like opera gloves were pulled up to her elbows, and a set of hide boots were pulled up to her knees. A simple skirt of chainmail and leather hung down off her hips and kept her modesty at least somewhat together. "If I were an enemy kid, you'd be dead now," the elf said in a smooth whispering voice that sent shivers down the teen's spine.

The youth flicked the black braid of hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ear. "Stalking me now are you," he asked feeling braver then he ought to with the blade's tip still pushed between the iron bands of his armor. "You would think freaking me out last night by getting in my bed naked would have been enough," he said with a raised eyebrow.

The strange orange elf merely chuckled and withdrew her sword and sheathed it on her left side. "Elves aren't known to hold their liquor that well," she admitted and scratched the back of her head with a smile on her plump lips. "I'm Tamaria Soul-Tamer," she said holding out her hand to the young man in front of her.

"Nice to meet you," he said with a quick look down at the hand he was offered, checking for any hidden weapons, before he grasped it and gave it a firm shake. "So what brings you out here Tamaria? Going on an adventure or just wanting to scare me some more?"

The elf smiled, revealing a row of shiny white teeth that he honestly hadn't seen on anyone since arriving to Skryim. "Actually I am going on an adventure," she explained. "Delphine asked me to tag along with you to some forge or something in the tundra. Even paid me a bit of gold in advance. She said something about you just starting some amazing quest and I thought I would tag along. I heard the blacksmith say you need to go to Whiterun and that works fine for me, my sister's in Whiterun."

"Its just a group of bandits," Harry muttered as he stood staring at the woman and shrugged. "Well, if Delphine hired you I would hate for her to have wasted her hard earned septims by telling you I'd be fine on my own," he said. "I've got the place marked on my map but I'm not sure how long it will take to get there," he admitted as he began to turn and walk toward the bridge that crossed the river. "Its north of Whiterun so I'll probably stop and see the Jarl before I go to the forge and get that out of the way."

The elf easily got into pace beside the teen and smirked as she caught his eyes trailing to her body as they walked. "You can look all you want but no touching," she said teasingly as they passed by Embry's fishing line and the row of salmon he had hung up from his early morning catch. "If you think I'll let you go after Whiterun you are mistaken. I was hired to travel with you to the Lunar Forge and that's what I'll do, even if I have to drag Mio behind me kicking and screaming."

"Then this will be an adventure," the raven haired Nord teen said with a grin. The two continued to walk in silence until they spotted the bridge leading across the river. "We'll need to be on the look out once we cross the bridge," Harry muttered as he placed his hand on the hilt of his sword as he started across the stone structure. "There is a pack of wolves that call the stretch of road between the bridge and the waterfall home. There's a troll known to move around down here as well. I don't want to hunt them, but if they come for us, we'll just have to deal with them."

The older woman made a rather rude sound as she looked at him. "You don't want to hunt them? Why in the world would we not hunt them? They would greatly help you in your combat training as animals are no where near as predictable as men or even elves can be. If you wanted to master the art of stealth, sneaking up on a wolf, or a pack of wolves, would be the ultimate test of your skills. But, then again, seeing you trip over that chicken earlier, I'd have to say that as clumsy as you are, I wouldn't want to hunt wolves either."

The emerald eyed teen's look morphed into a glare as he turned toward the woman walking beside him. The very air around them seemed to shimmer with magic as the temperature on the bridge began to rise. "Never mention that damned bird again," he demanded. "I would also prefer if you had all your facts before determining what sort of person I am, or should I just take it for granted your a drunken wench who likes to climb into bed with young teens," he said with fire in his voice. "I have to do this in order to get home, while you can prance off anytime you like. So no, I'd rather not have to venture out of my main path just to chase a few wolves and a troll I know could kill me."

The auburn haired woman seemed unaffected by his glare or the rise in magic and instead she smiled. "So, you do have a home to return to," she said with a look he didn't quite understand. "It must be nice to be able to return to where you belong at the end of your journey. What does it matter if I want to chase a few wolves, or fight one of those three eyed monsters? It would just be something to do to make the journey less boring. It takes days to reach Whiterun from Riverwood and a journey filled with camping and awkward conversations gets dull, fast."

The youth shook his head as he tried to rid himself of the flux of anger that had over come him. He didn't know why he had gotten so angry so fast for something as simple as her poking fun at him. He supposed, with everything happening back at Hogwarts, the jibe had simply been to similar to something Weasley or Malfoy would have said. "I'm sorry I snapped," he muttered as he turned away from the elf and let the cold rush of the northern winds whip around them once more. "I suppose I'm under a bit more stress then I thought and your barb to similar to those I've heard before I arrived in Skyrim."

"Well," Tamaria said pushing some of her hair out of her face, "you wanted a long journey of camping and awkward conversations so you might as well speak your mind." When he wasn't looking at her, she was watching the teen with pondering eyes. She had literally felt the magic coming off of him in heated waves, her elven blood making her senses sing with the amount of power he produced. If he was that strong now, imagine what he could do in the future when he was properly trained.

The wizard sighed as he turned to the woman beside him, stopping in his tracks just off the far side of the bridge. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad idea to have a confidant in this world. She would either believe him, or think him an insane attention seeking liar, wow did that seem familiar. His green eyes sparkled with amusement as he turned to the road north that would lead them toward the waterfall and eventually Whiterun. "Well, if you really want to know. I was born in another world," he began.


End file.
